


Glad to See You: After The Chair

by IronWomanStark



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Canon - Movie, Electrocution, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Movie Reference, Movie Spoilers, Protective Illya, Serious Injuries, Torture, torture aftermath, whump!solo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-17
Updated: 2015-09-17
Packaged: 2018-04-21 04:20:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4814813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IronWomanStark/pseuds/IronWomanStark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Can be treated as M/M or Gen depending on how you want to read it!)</p><p>Prompt: Takes place immediately after Illya saves Napoleon from The Chair. Sure, he's able to walk away from it but that much electricity coursing through your body will definitely cause some lingering problems. Like the fact that Napoleon has a hard time catching his breath, is experiencing heart palpitations, chest pain, dizziness, and basically just having a bit of a hard time recovering from the electrical torture he was just put through.<br/>Illya is desperate to rescue Gaby but also realizes that his partner isn't doing so hot either. Cue him being all awkwardly worried and not sure what to do but (surprisingly) not willing to just leave Napoleon behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Glad to See You: After The Chair

**Author's Note:**

> Written to fill a prompt at KinkfromUncle!  
> It can be found here: http://kinkfromuncle.dreamwidth.org/640.html?thread=46464#cmt46464

He gave a groan as Rudi finally lifted his foot off the pedal, his eyes shut in utter exhaustion. He hadn't signed up for this, didn't have a way to stop the insane man in front of him from torturing him to death. With each jolt of electricity, Solo felt a little bit more of him slip away. He was grateful for the moment of rest, even if it meant Rudi was going to start monologuing incessantly again. It was all he could do to try and catch his breath, his chest already feeling like someone had lit a flame right on top of it. Of course, he knew he could take more and Solo braced himself for it, knowing Rudi was certainly not the merciful type.

As his chest rose and fell quickly, Solo did his best to look through his dizziness and the irritatingly bright light above his head to focus on the movement in the doorway. A very small spark of relief coursed through him as he thought he saw Peril in the window. His vision began to steady, which immediately made his heart drop: it was just one of Vinciguerra's henchman, curiously peeking in to see what was happening. He wouldn't admit to himself how much he'd hoped it had been Peril instead, but before he could really begin to feel anything else, the man was suddenly taken out of the window. Pulled. By who?

It had to be.... yes, it was! There was his own Illya Kuryakin (Why had he called him 'his'? He would have to put that aside to be dissected later), watching him carefully through the window with that stupid hat on his head that Solo was now actually glad to see again. Peril looked just a touch angry, but even from here Solo could see the hint of determination in his eyes. For the second time in two minutes, a surge of relief coursed through him once more, this time actually lingering and helping him feel at least a bit more capable of outlasting Rudi's torture.

After all, with Illya here, Solo would be out of the chair in no time.

Rudi went to press on the peddle again and, knowing what was coming, Solo flinched and groaned. He instinctively tightened up and prepared for the electrocution once more... but it never came. Solo quietly let out the breath he'd been holding through his open mouth, eyes still fixed only on Illya. He didn't want to hear Rudi, see Rudi, give him any more of his attention than absolutely necessary now that he knew help was here. And boy, did he need help.

Illya put a finger to his lips, and Solo mentally nodded and raised an eyebrow, as he couldn't physically acknowledge Illya. That was partly due to Illya's silent instructions to give no indication of his presence, and partly because he couldn't physically do anything: he was tied down and spent from the chair's wrath.

More talking. Wasn't Rudi finished already? Couldn't he feel Illya's massive frame coming up behind him? "I never thought I'd say this..." Solo spoke, his voice uneven and betraying him as Illya got into position. Even now, with the world spinning before his eyes and his hair far more disheveled than he tended to keep it, he was still his usual charming self. He would've chuckled, had his chest not hurt with every breath. "I'm actually quite pleased to see you." Illya only had eyes for him for a few moments, carefully looking Solo up and down and looking rather disgusted at the medieval contraption he was bound to.

"You doing okay, Cowboy?"

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Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, the chair cooked up some fried Rudi before the boys could decide what to do with him, which left Solo and Kuryakin focused on getting out. Illya was doing most of the scouting ahead, eagerly looking for any sign of Gaby and not minding if any other henchmen decided to try and get in his way. He was just about to round a corner when he saw it, out of the corner of his eye: Solo had paused, one hand against the hallway wall and another over his heart.

"Cowboy?"

"'M fine, Peril."

Solo hadn't noticed how far back he'd lingered, his feet simply unable to keep up with Peril the way they'd used to. Even just walking at their brisk pace was making it hard to catch his breath. Not wanting to bring any attention to the torture he'd just suffered (really, he'd like to forget all about it as soon as possible), Solo quickly put his hands to his side and straightened up as best as he could. He hadn't realized how strongly the electricity had screwed over his chest, but now was definitely not the time for this. He had to suck it up, get it together: they had to find Gaby.

Illya was still staring curiously at him, and if Solo hadn't know any better he would have thought Illya was actually concerned about him underneath that rough Russian killer exterior. He shook his head to stop Illya from probing further, taking a deep breath and pushing off from the wall. They shared a look before Illya decided to give his partner the benefit of the doubt and press forward, though the slowed his pace considerably. Solo dropped his shoulders the moment Illya's back was turned.

This long day was getting even longer with each passing second.

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They were nearly out by this point, Solo could just tell by Illya's impatient strides that they were getting close. Illya was standing at a crossroads in a maze of hallways, glancing down them and making sure they were clear.

"Down this way. Nearly there." Illya confidently pointed the way down a hallway. He'd been keeping an eye on Solo, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye whenever he thought Solo wasn't looking. The American had been too preoccupied with the occasional heart palpitations and pain in his chest to really care what Illya was doing, and it was taking everything he had not to ask Illya to just carry him the rest of the way.

"Illya--" Kuryakin looked down to find Solo had suddenly clapped his hand down on his arm. Confused, then immediately concerned, he turned back towards Solo and looked up at his face (his incredibly pale face, by this point) to find the man was spiralling downwards, and fast. Solo was leaning heavily, unsteadily, to his right and ever closer to the wall with every passing second. Moving quickly, Illya reached for Solo's other arm as Solo's shoulder collided with the wall, and continued to keep a firm hold on him as the American pressed his back onto the cool concrete surface.

He'd called him by his first name. Solo had yet to do such a thing. It gave him an idea of the seriousness of the situation, at the very least.

"What is wrong?" Illya glanced up and down the hallway before turning his full attention back to Solo, his eyes carefully investigating every line and curve of Solo's face and body for obvious injuries. It was almost unbearable, Solo thought, to stare straight into Illya's eyes with that high level of attention staring right back, looking at you like you were the only important thing in the entire world. It was no wonder Gaby seemed to like him so much.

Solo had gently lowered his head back until it was resting on the wall behind him, his eyes fluttering to a close. He was far too pale even for Solo, reaching the point of gray. The hand on Illya's arm was shaking, and suddenly Illya was silently berating himself for believing Solo when he'd said he was fine and for not letting him stop and catch his breath earlier.

Solo gently put a hand to his chest again, and Illya deduced that the man was having difficulty breathing. His eyes were wide as he stood nearby, ready to catch Solo if he fell but otherwise feeling very much useless. His eyes quickly bounced from the man's hands to his face and back, waiting for any indication that he could be of further assistance. The American's breathing wasn't quite right, as every breath hurt and he couldn't really take a deep enough breath to get enough oxygen to his brain. "Dizzy," It was all Solo could wheeze out, as it was really the dizziness that had knocked him back into the wall. Now that he was against something solid, cold, soothing against his back, he was already starting to feel better.

"What can I do?" Illya paused for a moment before he spoke, unsure if there was really anything that he could do besides actually pick up and carry Solo out of there. They had only just begun to work with each other, but already Illya could feel himself growing attached to the annoying American with the smart mouth. Not that he would ever in a million years admit it, but it was the reason for his sudden pang of fear at the completely exhausted look on Solo's face.

"It's fine, I'm fine. Go." Solo had cracked his eyes open just a sliver, barely enough to see Illya's worried face from underneath his hat, and was now trying to wave him off as best as he could. Illya could plainly see that the man's legs were barely holding him up at this point, bent and trembling. "I just... need a minute. I'll be right behind." There was a breathless note in Solo's voice, something more there scratching away at him. Illya again glanced down the hallways, thankful no one had yet come to stop them. He could easily take Solo's advice, scout ahead and look for Gaby, perhaps come back for him later...

The thought made him extremely uncomfortable, and that was just the thought of it.

"No. I will wait. Splitting up: bad idea."

Solo actually opened his eyes then, feeling better now that he was able to stop and take a breather. Illya looked slightly uncomfortable and very concerned, and seemed unsure of where to stand or keep his hands. Another heart palpatation rippled through him then, just as he was about to speak, and from his open mouth came a small cry of pain instead of words. Illya, still completely unsure of what to do (there was nothing he could physically fix here, no bandages that needed to be applied. Solo just needed the kind of rest that they wouldn't be able to get here), kept a firm hold on Solo's arm and squeezed it slightly, reassuring him that he was still there. As the adrenaline wore off, so the symptoms became worse, though Illya hoped they would begin to wane once Solo had a chance to rest.

Solo desperately wanted to slide down the wall, to have a seat on the floor and stay there for hours until his chest stopped hurting so much. He'd truly tried his best to relax during his time in the chair, knowing that the tenser his muscles were, the worse he would feel afterwords. However, knowing and doing were two very different things. After telling Illya to go, he realized just how much he'd preferred having the man stay next to him, just in case: Illya was the world's angriest mother bear when it came to certain things, and Solo knew the man could protect him through hell itself if need be.

"Alright." He'd clenched his eyes shut again at the most recent palpitation, and opened them again now as he felt his chest pain beginning to fade. No doubt it would return, but being able to take a breather really had helped tremendously. Illya was still watching him nervously, shifting his weight from foot to foot, and it made Solo almost laugh with how awkward Illya could be sometimes. He had yet to see Solo in such a debilitated state, even though Solo had been the one to practically save his life back when he'd flipped the boat and nearly drowned. Illya's presence alone had been the most helpful thing, though Solo knew that if Illya wasn't physically helping then he wouldn't feel as if he was of any assistance.

"Alright," Solo sighed, standing up a bit straighter and trying to focus on Illya's face to shake off the last bits of dizziness. His problems would have to wait: there was a mission at stake here, and possibly Gaby's life. He reached out to give Illya's arm a pat, still feeling just a bit like he had a car sat on top of his chest. "Let's go." Solo gave Illya a nod, setting his lips and pushing himself off the wall as best he could. Illya returned the nod only after a moment, making sure to give him one last look up and down before deciding that Solo was ready. It was a look of knowing much more was to come, but there was nothing they could do about it but push through. Illya stepped out of his way, unsure of how much assistance the great charming Napoleon Solo wished from him. Although they quietly let go of each other's stable arm support when Solo began walking, Illya silently made sure to keep his arm at an easily-reachable distance to Solo at all times.

It was as they were making their way back down the hallway again, with Solo standing up just a bit straighter and his hand no longer squeezing his chest for mercy, that Solo really began to not mind the partnership so much. That was his little secret, of course.

"Thank you, Peril."

"Don't die on me now, Cowboy."


End file.
